


Black, White and Grey

by Hope Meijer (Hopemeijer)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-22
Updated: 2006-01-22
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopemeijer/pseuds/Hope%20Meijer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colonel O'Neill was black, white and grey. [Character study, romance is there if you squint.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black, White and Grey

The night was dark and close, surrounding the two figures seated by the dim but warming fire like a blanket. The continuous swish from the light breeze in the trees around the clearing was comforting, and the thoughts of Colonel Jack O'Neill and Major Samantha Carter were mostly uninterrupted, punctuated every so often by a soft snore from the direction of Daniel Jackson's tent.

"I'm just going to patrol the perimeter," Jack's voice broke through Sam's reverie, and she looked up to meet his gaze.

"Yes, sir," she replied softly, and after briefly resting her hand on her sidearm to assure herself of its presence she allowed her eyes to follow her commanding officer's path through the underbrush.

He was a very simple man, she reflected, and yet complex. He was a military man through-and-through, living life to rules and morals, but he also knew when to break or bend said rules. Some described him as black and white, but she knew him well enough to see he had hidden shades of grey. His cynicism was offset by a childlike streak, meaning that he would attend briefings and complete paperwork in his office, but be found later fiddling with a yo-yo or playing the latest game on his Nintendo.

He had told her once that he wasn't complex, but he had depth to him that was rare in Air Force colonels that had been through what he had. He claimed not to be as intelligent as Daniel and herself, but even through the façade of a Simpson-loving fanatic he would listen to opera and play chess, studying the stars through the telescope he had installed on his roof.

He seemed grumpy, gruff and short-tempered to other staff on base, but put him in a situation off-world with a young child and his face would light up; his time devoted to entertaining the child. He appeared to have a short attention span, griping at Daniel for wanting to study ruins for longer than necessary, but he would take care and concern to make sure that the card-tower he was building was perfect. And he had incredible patience with her and his ongoing 'mission' of kicking her out of her lab during the late nights and downtime she refused to take off.

People thought he was uncaring and callous at times, but even when he encouraged these rumours with flippant remarks and minimal attachment, she knew he cared deeply for the team. The way he would linger when one member of SG-1 was in the infirmary after a particularly gruelling mission, and the way he was so at ease when they had team-nights at their various houses. He knew them all well – the fact she liked vanilla flavouring in her coffee to add sweetness; the way Daniel would only have Brazilian coffee ground to perfection, and the brand of candles Teal'C preferred to use in his kel'no'reem.

His sceptical outlook was set off by his sharp wit and wicked sense of humour, and while many had been offended by his offhand remarks, few looked past his mask and found the real Jack O'Neill, full of the emotion others assumed he lacked. His impassive face could seem harsh and cold but she, Daniel and Teal'C knew how to look for emotion. He battled to keep feelings clouding judgement, but every so often he let something slip. When they had been trapped either side of a force field with the impending threat of her side exploding, he had refused to leave her, and his feelings had been crystal clear by the way he looked at her. The regulations were there between them, and they followed them diligently and strictly, knowing exactly what was wrong and right. But there were those moments, those quick brushes of hand against arm, those comforting hugs that lasted longer than necessary, and those smiles that screamed of rule breaking, but nobody seemed to mind too much. Rules defined right and wrong, but every so often they found a grey area, a loophole, and a way to bend the rules.

He was black and white in his morals, in his behaviour, in his life, but every so often he would cross the line into that indefinable area. He was a contradiction, an enigmatic soul and a puzzle, yet he was easy to define and understand. He was easily categorised, but not at all.

"Coffee?"

She jumped, having been aware of his presence and return but too deep in her thoughts to acknowledge how close he was.

"Yes, please." The cup was placed lightly in her hand, and he settled down next to her on the log that was their makeshift bench. He was close enough to touch, but wasn't touching her. He was close, but there was still a gap between them.

They were so close, yet so distanced from each other.

As he smiled at her and returned his gaze to the fading fire, his arm brushing hers deliberately as he lifted his coffee to his lips and drank, she suddenly knew him. Knew who he was. Knew what he was.

He was not just black and white, straight and narrow. He was not just completely enigmatic, indefinable, the grey area.

Colonel Jack O'Neill was black, white and grey.


End file.
